About This Track
"Assassins" is a track by Pharoahe Monch, from the album W.A.R. (We Are Renegades), released 15th March 2011. Full lyrics are available below.
About the Artist
Lyrics
[Intro: Pharoahe Monch & Jean Grae] In 2013, the World Government placed sanctions against freethinking individuals in order to force people to adhere to one way of life. An independently funded organization called poh pih evas nac ew dna eerf rof cisum gnidaolnwod gnikcuf pots hired one hundred assassins to infiltrate the headquarters where files were kept. Of these one hundred, ninety-seven were captured, tortured, and executed. Only three remained. The third of which was said to own an arsenal that would rival an entire city's police force. The second was rumored was to be able to move throughout space and time. And the first... (One) [Verse 1: Jean Grae] Fasten your seat belts for the last of the three assassins on earth The first flashing her purse with a heat stealth They call me Jean McCoy, beast in me employed, deploy deplorable Through audible destructive actions, attractive decoy Then pass to the Troy after I'm passing your life over He'll deliver it through river Styx, Hades, I'm cold, deliberate, ladies My foes limited, pray me some praise (Whispering) Stay on your toes, villains, it's Grae and your day's whittling (Hey) Blistering lines packed in six, stick to spine (Uh) Wracked with a sick mind, trapped in thick bitch frame (Ooh, yeah) Drug you with strychnine in nine drinks, you drunk And it's my kidney, you dick brain, I'm just itching to slit veins Stitch lines, Rick James, fuck yo' lives, sip brains, bitches Niggas, kick rocks or kick rhymes, it's to the pain Liquor-riddled liver, sieve in it, sipping it like Capri Sun Ignant as ever, she's clever, equivalent be none (None) A ball breaker, call fakers out with passion (Pew) You got the gall, bastard, to brawl with the broad brashest? (Huh?) The ball's in your court, pass it; but warning, fall faster Than asses with age slack on the back of a Kardashian (Hah) The walls crash in, you all on the floor, gasping The gas pour in the corridors, racking your jaws, blacking out Catch Grae backing out the back door, cackling Still make it back to the bar for last call (Two) [Verse 2: Pharoahe Monch] They ask me why I'm highly regarded, this God body, probably Monch is a mixture of Marcus Garvey, Miles Davis and Bob Marley (Radical) Never skateboard slang like gnarly, more like: Weed in my whip on the way to get top like Charles Barkley You are hardly prepared to spar with a marksman, spark me I'm Gambit with the ace of spades, a master in archery Vehicular, particularly the vernacular Specifically the fit so when I spit it, it's spectacular and accurate When I attack, I'm more legend than Acura Flip Bloomberg the bird, bitch, more blood than Blacula More Crip than cryptic scriptures Encrypted with backwards vernacular Plus, sicker than most like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction I am that nigga for real, per capita Smacking the next rapper that uses the term 'swag' or thereafter These three assassins get to ass whipping Prepare for a professional ass that can Shape shift, spit, hollow tip clips, mainly Sick, ain't he? Mind control Make you shoot your best friend in the face, Dick Cheney My life is like a documentary film depicted in black and white Flick's grainy (Geronimo) I'm on Guantanamo Bay taking pics in a Captain Morgan pose With my left foot on a pile of detainees, screaming "We are renegades!" Fuck you, pay me [Skit: Jean Grae & Pharoahe Monch] Two. Where the fuck... no. Where the fuck is Three? I know. I know. He's gonna be here. He gave me his word, trust me Yeah, but he does this every time He's gonna be here, trust me He's gonna ruin this mission for us again Look, here he comes now (*car crash*) [Verse 3: Royce da 5'9"] I be riding 'round with a stripper-slash-burlesque model I make it pop like my cock in a Durex condom I'm a opposite artist, I find irony in going From being like a stone in the grass to rocking the Garden The same irony as going from fully automatic in the backyard To having a whole machine behind me I take my Australian bitches, show her some other thangs She know my stroke is deadly so she gave me bloody brain Don't try to get familiar if I don't feel you in person I'll flip the script and I'll accidentally kill you on purpose The bad is what I'm flailing, I got so many furs PETA gon' paint splash me when they see me No matter what I'm wearing Your bitch about to open up, sniff some blow off of my dick Guess you could say she on my coconuts I'm on point like Chris Paul You on point like an Atlantic City hooker that licks balls I'm 'bout to flip in this bitch like Dominique Dawes And shut shit down like a car when it stalls I am the deadliest rapper, you claiming that you flow like water But really, y'all niggas Evian backwards Marshall hit the jackpot with this flow that I got I know when I'm hot, it's my show to stop, holding my crotch My whip cleaner than Amish men in honest ends Two dimes with me like I'm a twin, 'cause I'm a ten [Outro: Pharoahe Monch] Okay... I'm in
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